


This Isn't A Game (Anymore)

by dodosindamnation



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: I don't know where this is going to go, so ig i have to update warnings on the way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2020-12-09 10:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20993390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dodosindamnation/pseuds/dodosindamnation
Summary: When Virgil was eleven, his twin disappeared. The only piece of evidence was the board game that they played the night before.Six years later, Virgil gets the game back out, hoping it will give him closure. When he follows in his brother’s footsteps, however, he is only left with even more questions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I got bored halfway through editing this? So I'm literally begging you to tell me if you find a mistake or a typo or something, I will be very grateful.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Missing family member; Other family falsely accused of harming said missing family member

Virgil frowned, staring at his brother.

“Patton, that doesn’t make _sense_. You can’t make friends with the wolves!”

Patton beamed. “Yeah I can! I rolled a 19 on charm! Ro says that that means I get to charm the wolves! They love me!”

Virgil turned his glare on Roman. “You’re _allowing_ this? But my guard wolves! What am I gonna use to guard my castle now?”

Roman shrugged. “Get new wolves. These are Patton’s now. It isn’t against the rules.”

Virgil threw his hands in the air. “This game is stupid anyways,” he snapped.

“I concur entirely,” Logan said, glaring at Patton and Roman. “It is a silly creation, and relies too much on the whims of the human mind. Patton has just ruined the entire plot by trying to befriend the wolves.”

“Trying _and succeeding_,” Roman answered, his voice edging on annoyed. “And leave Patton alone, don’t be so mean! So what if he doesn’t want to kill the wolves? Virgil, you shouldn’t have gotten such easily-tamed creatures to guard your castle!”

Virgil stared at him. This was completely unfair. So, what, because Patton was so obsessed with dogs, Virgil wasn’t allowed his guard wolves? _Unbelievable_! “Fine. I wanna fight Patton for ownership of my wolves.”

“_His_ wolves, you mean,” Roman said. He smirked at Virgil’s scowl. They all turned to Patton.

Virgil’s twin was frowning at him, looking more sad than angry at Virgil’s proposal. He sighed after a few seconds, half-heartedly tossing the wolf figurines back across the table. “Never mind. Have the wolves back. I’ll just let them eat me.”

Virgil froze. He hadn’t meant to _upset_ him! He just wanted his guard wolves! But, like always, Virgil had managed to ruin the entire night by being a child. Did he really even need guard wolves? He probably wouldn’t ever come back to his castle anyways. At least if Patton was looking after them, they wouldn’t starve to death or anything.

Just as Virgil was about to apologise and let Patton keep the wolves, Roman spoke. “See? Now look what you’ve done! You upset him! Just let him keep the wolves, Virgil, don’t be so selfish!”

Patton’s eyes widened and his head snapped from Virgil to Roman and then back again. “Oh, no! I’m not upset, really! You can honestly keep the wolves, I don’t mind! I’m only on level five anyways, I’ll just make a new character!”

Virgil shook his head. He violently crossed the wolves off his character. “No. Take the dumb wolves. I wouldn’t want to ruin your stupid game.”

Patton’s face fell. “Wait, Virge!”

“No, whatever. I’m going upstairs. I wouldn’t have even agreed to play this stupid thing if you hadn’t forced me. The last story was bad enough.”

“It’s called a campaign,” Patton muttered, looking away. Roman snorted.

“Whatever,” Virgil snapped. “I don’t care. I’m so sorry for ruining your night.”

Virgil turned away before he could see how badly he had hurt Patton, and went back to their shared bedroom. He slammed the door shut and lay down on his bed – the bottom of his and Patton’s bunk beds – and listened for when Roman and Logan left a few minutes later, before pointedly ignoring Patton when he came in.

That night, Virgil had woken up to the sounds of Patton climbing down the steps of his bed. He turned around and watched his brother open their door and step out, before quietly closing it behind him. Virgil wondered if he should apologise now — but he was too embarrassed to even look at his brother right now, let alone speak to him. He’d do it in the morning, he decided.

He rolled back over and closed his eyes again, when suddenly, there was a scream from the downstairs, probably the living room. Virgil bolted up.

“Patton?” he yelled. He jumped out of bed and ran out, just as his parents did.

“What was that?” His dad demanded.

“I think it was Pat!” Virgil replied, his voice high-pitched and scared.

Virgil’s dad ran down the stairs, yelling his son’s name. Virgil and his mother followed behind him, almost as fast.

They searched the whole house, their screams getting louder with every empty room. After that, they ran into the street.

Patton was gone, leaving behind an old game lying on the coffee table.

Virgil woke with a start, his alarm screaming at him to get the hell out of bed. He grumpily slammed the ‘off’ button, and it fell off the desk, still beeping loudly. He groaned, rolled over, and waited for it to shut up.

His bedroom door opened, and his mom looked in. “Virgil! Get up, your father and I have a press conference in half an hour! You gotta be at school by then.”

Virgil looked at her. “Turn off the alarm,” he groaned, too tired for manners.

His mom smiled and walked forward. She turned off the alarm and ruffled his already-ruffled hair, before throwing open his curtains, allowing light to stream into the room and blind him.

“Up and at ‘em, kiddo!” she said. She must have seen the look that crossed Virgil’s face with the nickname – it was used innumerable times by Patton, much to Virgil’s annoyance. He would give anything to hear that voice say it again.

Six years had passed since his twin’s disappearance. Virgil had thought that it would’ve stopped hurting by now. It didn’t. At this point, Virgil doubted it ever would.  
Now, he was three months away from graduating. Graduating high school, going to college, getting a real life. Doing all of the things he and his twin had dreamed of doing together for their entire lives. They would stand beside each other as they graduated, they would go the same college, get a dorm together, then graduate college and buy a house somewhere, where they would live happily ever after.

But that just didn’t exist, did it?

“Virge. We’ll find him.”

Virgil smiled tiredly. His parents always said that. But how could they possibly find him? It had been six years. Six whole years, and the only piece of evidence that anyone could find was that stupid game he’d been playing. Virgil was sure he would never be able to forgive himself that night. The last conversation they ever had, and it was an argument. In fact, no. It wasn’t even an argument. It was just Virgil arguing. Being a jerk as his brother tried to apologise.

He pushed the thought out of his head as his mother left the room, saying something about school. Virgil sighed. He looked at the photos he had on his wall of him and his brother, and then looked away again. No use making himself sad.

He got ready for school, pulling on his old jeans and hoodie and brushing his teeth, not bothering to do his hair, trading the time to finish his makeup.

“Hey, Virge!” His dad called when he came downstairs.

Virgil shot him a smile. “Morning.”

“Sleep well?”

Virgil shrugged. “Well as ever,” he muttered.

His dad smiled back sympathetically. “Sure.”

Before he could say anything else, a car pulled up outside and honked. Virgil looked out the window, and saw Roman’s dad’s bright red Chevrolet.

He called a goodbye to his parents and grabbed an apple, before running outside, his bag slung across his shoulder.

The driver window rolled down. “Virge! How’s it going?”

Virgil ran around to the passenger side and jumped in. Logan was sat in the back with his laptop on his lap.

“Hi guys. I’m alright. You?”

Roman beamed at him. “I am wonderful! We’re graduating! I’m just three months! Three months, and then summer, and then we can get far, far away from here.”

Virgil didn’t reply.

“Your parents have another conference today, don’t they?” Logan asked.

Virgil swallowed. “Yeah. Still trying to convince everyone that he’s still alive. That they didn’t kill him.”

Roman sucked in a breath. “This is ridiculous. I can’t believe people still think that.”

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, it’s always the same. A kid goes missing and the police are clueless? Blame it on the parents.”

Logan sighed. “It is a very frequently used tactic. Your testimony clearly showed that your parents were asleep when Patton went missing. People are just idiots.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Virgil focussed on his breathing, making sure it sounded natural enough to seem like he wasn’t about to burst into tears.

Then, Roman spoke. “Oh! You know what we should do tonight? We should have a sleepover! And we can play that old game! Remember the one that Patton just adored? The RPG? We should get it back out — honour his memory and play again! He’d love that, right?”

Virgil smiled. “That… that actually sounds like a really good idea. Yeah. Let’s do that tonight. Lo, you in?”

Virgil turned around to look at him, and saw him glaring at his laptop screen, a weird look on his face.

“Logan? You okay?”

He seemed to jolt back into reality, and nodded. “I’m fine. What were you saying?”

“Ro and I are gonna have a sleepover tonight, and we’re gonna get Patton’s old game out again — y’know the RPG one with the wizards and demons and stuff? We… I guess we’re kinda gonna honour Pat’s memory. Seeing as we’re about to graduate and stuff, and he’s not here. So… wanna join?”

Logan nodded. “Yes, that will be… fun.”

Virgil remembered how much Logan hated that game and was instantly frantic to reassure him. “You don’t have to—”

“No. I want to, Virgil. If you’ll allow me to join in, that is.”

“Of course you can come. You were just as close to him as we were.”

“Nobody was as close to anyone as you and he were.”

Virgil looked away. He couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Patton really had been his best friend. His _only_ friend, until they turned eight. That was when Patton met Logan and Roman.

He could feel the beginnings of the void again, and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, well, sure. Are we all gonna go straight to my place? Or do you two wanna get changed and grab your stuff first?”

Roman shook his head. “I can just call dad to drop my things over. He can get Lo’s on the way.”

Virgil smiled, and nodded. “Good plan. That’s a great plan. I… I’m looking forward to it.”

Roman grinned back. “Me too! Lo, you excited?”

“Of course. I always enjoy spending time with the two of you.”

Virgil felt his face heat up and he focussed more on the road, ignoring if anyone noticed. Nobody said anything if they did.

A few seconds later, Roman started the conversation again, talking about an exam that he had coming up.

The rest of the day passed quickly. They usually did — Virgil spent more time daydreaming in school than anything else, time flew by. He met Logan and Roman at his car, and all three drove to Virgil’s house.

“Hey, boys!” Virgil’s dad called.

“Mr. Sanders, hey!” Roman yelled back.

“Good afternoon,” Logan added.

The man came into the hall from the kitchen, grinning. “How was everyone’s day?”

Roman gasped. “Oh, Mr. Sanders, it was _terrible_! I had an exam, right? An art exam, and it’s been going for _days_, and I messed up the shading, Mr. Sanders, the _shading_.”

Virgil laughed softly. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m _serious_! I told you in the car, it’s _ruined_! I’m gonna fail!”

Virgil laughed, shaking his head. “Dad, come look at the photo. He took a photo of the finished art, just. Come and look.”

Dad walked forward as Roman pulled out his phone with an eye roll.

“Look. See? _Ruined_.”

He held the photo out, and Virgil’s dad frowned.

“Roman, that… that is brilliant. Roman, what are you talking about? This is incredible!”

Virgil grinned at the stunned look on Roman’s face.

“Okay! Okay, to celebrate your brilliant artwork, _you three_ are having pizza for dinner!”

Logan shook his head. “We have pizza whenever Roman and I have a sleepover. It isn’t a special thing.”

He scoffed. “I think that this _is_ a special thing, _Logan_, because _I’m_ going to pay for it. Not you three.”

Virgil cheered. “Free pizza!”

“Nothing is free,” Logan said matter-of-factly. “The pizza will cost your father.”

Virgil cheered again. “Even better!”

Roman laughed as Virgil’s dad rolled his eyes.

“Don’t push it, child.”

“Sure. Thanks, dad! You know our order?”

“Always.”

Virgil grinned and hurried to the bottom of the stairs. “Come on,” he said, before bounding up them. Roman and Logan followed, the former calling a goodbye to Virgil’s  
dad.

They reached Virgil’s room, and he went straight for the closet.

“The police gave it us back after a year or so,” he said. “They decided they couldn’t get anything else out of it, and it was hardly evidence of anything anyways.” He pulled out a box and brushed some of the dust off it.

“That makes sense. All the game showed is what he was doing… then. The police _couldn't_ have gotten anything from it. Nothing at all.”

Virgil sent him an “I know right” look and set the box on the floor. Roman grinning, laughing quietly.

“Oh, I’m excited now!” he giggled. “Come on, come on. Remember your characters?”

Virgil shook his head. “Not in the slightest,” he said. Roman grinned at him, nudging his elbow gently, before tearing the lid off the box.

“Good job we wrote them all down!”

He grabbed all of the papers from inside the box and spread them out on the floor.

“Okay… ah! Virgil, here’s yours. Um… Lo… oh, there we are. And mine… here!” He looked at a fourth piece of paper and his grin faded. “And… here is Patton’s…”

Virgil looked up from his own paper. “Yeah? Um… what is… did he… did he change anything? That night?”

Roman looked at the paper, turned to look at the other side, and his face fell completely. He suddenly looked miserable. “He…” He swallowed. “He, um… he scribbled out the… the bit at the bottom where he got the wolves. I wrote it on the paper when you two were arguing, I didn’t think he’d notice, but… but he did. That’s all he changed, he crossed it out…”

Virgil’s felt sick. On the other side of his own paper, where he had angrily crossed out his possession of the wolves, was a messy tear, and creases. Patton has clearly tried  
to rub out the pencil, and had rewritten the wolves into Virgil’s character.

Nobody spoke for a long time. Then, Logan inhaled shakily.

“Should… should we begin?”

Virgil blinked the tears out of his eyes and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, choking slightly. “Yeah, let’s… let’s play.”

Roman sniffled slightly. “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “So. Um… we left off… when we were picking up Virgil—”

“Garlax,” Virgil said.

“What?”

“The, um, the character. His name is Garlax.”

Roman grinned. “Right. Lo, your character was…”

“Uh… Finn… Ah, here. Finnickus Lornthrite.”

Roman beamed. “Of course! Okay. Okay. Lornthrite, Sir Avanect, and— well… I suppose it’s just the two of us for now… um, we go to Garlax’s castle, infamous in its history of murder and scandal. We’re caught off guard, by his guard dogs. They snap and snark as we attempt to bypass the castle walls. Uh… Lornthrite, what do you do?”

Logan pursed his lips. “I… I suppose, I… cast a defence spell. One that… adds to my health.”

“Um… okay, roll arcana.”

Logan grabbed the dice and rolled, and it froze in the air.

The three boys stared at it.

“Logan? You weren’t meant to _actually_ cast a spell, you know.”

“W-What’s happening?” Virgil asked. Logan looked at him and Roman, and his eyes widened.

“Wait! Wait, what’s happening, what’s going on?”

Virgil and Roman looked at their hands. Virgil let out a strangled scream.

“Virge, Virgil, breathe, it— it’s okay.”

Logan’s fingers were transparent now, caught up to the others, and the invisibility was creeping up all of their arms, halfway up to their elbows.

“_Guys_!” Virgil cried. The dice hit the board suddenly, and the room was empty.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: knives, panic attacks, threatening with knives, perceived racism that actually is racism but it’s fantasy racism

Virgil opened his eyes with a gasp of air. The sun glared down onto his face.

He sat up, and looked around. What the _hell_?

He was in… a field. A field? Yes, or… or a clearing, maybe. He didn’t know. He was certain he’d never been here before, though, and he was certain that he didn’t come here by choice. He looked down at himself and let out an incredulous laugh. Okay, this was ridiculous.

Virgil was wearing skin-tight black pants, completely covered in straps and pockets and mini sheaths for his… knives? Oh _god_ he was covered in _knives_. They were all in his jacket _too_.

Virgil began pulling each blade out of the sheaths and putting them on the grassy floor and then scrambled away. Okay now that he wasn’t literally covered in knives, he could actually think.

He looked properly at himself. Skintight black trousers still there. He had on a black vest — also skintight, what the _hell_? — and a black and purple… robe? Leather robe. Jesus _Christ_.

Okay. _Okay, Virgil, something’s wrong. Breathe._

Where were Logan and Roman? Were they dressed like someone out of a BDSM fantasy as well?

“_Logan_?” he yelled. “_Ro_?”

He spun around in circles. A clearing. He was in a clearing, in a forest. Oh god, there weren’t any forests anywhere _near_ home.

His parents! They were going to be heartbroken. Was it possible to die of heartbreak? Virgil didn’t know, but if it was, he knew what fate would befall his mom and dad. Both sons disappearing, in the span of six years? They would…

Virgil had to get back to them. He had to, he didn’t have a _choice_. He felt around his pockets, searching for his phone, but only found two more tiny blades. He sighed. Maybe… no.

Or… perhaps he should keep the knives. As a defensive measure.

Slowly, carefully, Virgil slid the abundance into his many, many holsters. Once he was fairly sure he had them all, he turned, and walked into the forest.

Virgil, all things considered, wasn’t a lucky person. He generally had a bad time. He got low grades no matter how much he studied, got bruises in gym even if he skipped, woke up with his hair all over the place and ten minutes to get to school.

No, Virgil was a fairly unlucky person. Which is why he was _massively_ surprised when he broke through the tree line.

People milled about in front of him, dressed in neat little outfits that looked like they belonged to 14th century Britain, not 21st century America. They yelled and laughed and sang, just like Virgil would expect to see in a medieval TV show.

Maybe that’s what this was. Maybe he was kidnapped by… by crazy role players. They needed a villain so they stole him. But then… where were Logan and Roman?

Virgil wove his way through the crowds, his narrow shoulders letting him slip between people without too much trouble, until he came across what looked like a bar. He went in.

“Excuse me,” he called, once he’d managed to fight his way to the front. “I was wondering if you could tell me where the nearest police station is?”

The bartender frowned. “Police station?” he asked. “What’s that?”

The teenager laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, uh, that’s great. But, seriously. I’m not a part of this charade, and I need to get home. So if you could just point me in the right direction that would be—”

“Now you listen here, _punk_,” the tender interrupted. His lips had pulled away from his teeth in a snarl. “I don’t have to welcome your kind into this bar, y’hear me? It’s a courtesy. You wanna keep being a mannerless piece of horse crap? Tale it somewhere else. I’m dealing with you out of the goodness of mine own heart, and I deserve better.”

Virgil stared at him, wide-eyed. His kind? Was the bartender racist? He looked down at his hands, at the dark skin that was frankly one of the few features Virgil _liked_ about himself, and then glowered.

“Fine. I’ll take my money elsewhere. Thanks for your help.” He stormed out of the bar, head ducked low and hands stuffed into his pocket.

How many other people around here were racist? Was Virgil going to be murdered?

He hurried down the street without looking up, doing his best not to bump into anyone, and trying even harder to avoid thinking about being killed. His parents would _definitely_ go to jail if that happened.

Just as he was about to get out of the crowd, he crashed into somebody, sending both of them falling to the ground.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” a voice snapped.

Virgil flinched and scrambled to his feet. “Sorry, I’m sorry, it was an accident, I didn’t mean to.”

The person stood. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Virgil looked at them. It was a boy, a few years younger than Virgil, he thought. He had short black hair and green eyes, barely visible over his... strangely modern sunglasses. They were _definitely_ not on-theme.

“Hey, excuse me, can you help me?” Virgil asked timidly.

“Depends. I don’t have long so keep it quick.”

Virgil smiled. “Thanks. Can you tell me where the nearest police station is? Or— or even, like, a payphone. Anything I can use to call my parents?”

The boy stared at him blankly, before a slow smirk creeped onto his face. “Uh… are you…” he laughed nervously. “I don’t have any money. Or— or potions, or anything.”

Virgil stared at him. He tried to ignore the panic bubbling on his chest, making his lungs constrict and his heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings. _Potions_? “_What_? No, you don’t understand, I’m not meant to be here. I need to go home.”

“I… okay. I get that. Here, why don’t you, uh… come with me. We can go back to my house, and we’ll see what I can do to help you.”

Virgil exhaled shakily. “I need to go home, I need to get back to my parents. They’ve lost my brother already, they won’t be able to deal with losing me, _please_—”

“Hey, hey, I get it, okay? Come on. Let’s get you out of the sun.”

Virgil hesitated, before he took a slow step closer. “Fine.”

“Awesome. My name’s Remy.”

“Patton,” Virgil said, the first name he could come up with.

Remy faltered, but it passed quickly, and then he smiled. “Follow me.”

He turned away and strolled back down the street. Virgil followed.

They didn’t speak for the walk. Remy stayed in front of Virgil, shoulders tense and fists clenched. He was nervous. Virgil could relate.

They came to a dusty alleyway, huge wooden board covering up windows, dirty, worn pieces of cloth in doorways.

Remy spun to Virgil, smiling widely. “Welcome to my humble abode. Or, well, it isn’t _mine_. There’s loads of us. Uh… you should stay here, though. Just while I go and let P know we’ve got a visitor.”

“I just need to use your phone, dude, please.”

Something flickered across Remy’s face. “Yeah, I know. Just wait here.”

He turned away and ducked under a piece of cloth. Virgil stepped back and leaned against a wall. He allowed his mind to wander.

He wondered how Patton had reacted, waking up in the middle of nowhere, alone and so young. God, he was so young. Virgil couldn’t even imagine going through this at eleven. Had Patton even gone through this? Was Patton’s kidnapping worse? Better?

Was he still here, trapped in some world where people glared at him and snapped and acted like _he_ was insane? Were they taken by the same people?

Just as Virgil was about to start freaking out, a man stepped out of the hole Remy had disappeared into. He was holding a long knife.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” the man said, voice harsh. He stayed several feet from Virgil, but the teenager knew he’d be ready to jump and skewer him in a second.

“I-I just want to go home. Please don’t hurt me, please, I just want to go home.” His voice tapered off to a cracked whisper and he felt a tear burn his cheek. His breath hitched painfully.

The knife lowered slightly, and the dirty face just barely softened. “You’re… really young to be a rogue. What happened?”

Virgil frowned. “What? What the hell is a rogue?”

The knife fell to the ground and the man stumbled back, eyes wide and horrified. “What did you just say?” he whispered.

Virgil frowned. Geez, he’d seen people get offended by swearing but this was an overreaction.

“Uh, sorry, excuse my language, but I don’t think you have any right to claim the moral high ground when you just pointed a knife at me.”

“Where are you from?” the man whispered, ignoring Virgil’s comment.

“Florida. Why, where are we?”

The man let out a shaking breath. “Oh, you… you poor thing. Come on, come inside.”

“Hey, no, I just wanna go home.”

Tears filled the man’s eyes. Suddenly, he didn’t look so old. He looked more around Virgil’s age, under the grime and the dust and sweat.

“I know,” he said softly. “I know, I understand. But, come on inside, I’ll… try and get you something to eat.”

“You’re not listening to me!” Virgil snapped, and suddenly he was crying again. “I don’t want food, or kindness, or whatever else. I just want to go _home_.”

“I know. Listen, please. I’ll get you something to eat and then we’ll see if we can get you to the police, okay?”

The police. This boy was normal. “Okay. Okay, fine, I’ll follow you. How many other people will threaten to kill me if I do?”

“I wasn’t going to kill you, kiddo. I wasn’t really going to hurt you unless you did something first. But as long as you’re with me nobody will bat an eyelid. Come on.”

Virgil followed him into the building, ducked under the rag. There were children everywhere, ranging from the ages of eight to around fifteen, all of them dirty and thin. They weren’t staring at him, they were having conversations — laughing and talking and smiling. A few glanced at Virgil, but disregarded him as soon as they spotted the other boy.

“What’s your name, kiddo?” the boy asked over his shoulder.

Virgil tensed. “Patton,” he answered. He figured he should probably keep his false identities consistent.

The boy, however, froze, tensing even worse than Virgil had. Several of the children looked over, frowning. Virgil ignored them.

“Patton? That’s a… name. I used to know someone called Patton.”

Virgil glanced around. There were lots of eyes on him now, varying degrees of suspicion and fear on their faces.

“Weird…” he mumbled in response.

The other teen sighed. “Listen. I understand what you’re going through. I do. But I need you to trust me. Don’t lie to me. I don’t want you to have to leave but… these kids? This is all they’ve got, and I can’t have you coming in here and lying to us and ruining it. So please. Tell me the truth.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes again, as the boy turned to face him properly. He glowered. “Right, well, that’s all well and good, except I don’t _know_ you, so excuse me if I don’t trust you enough to give you my entire life story. I didn’t _ask_ to come here. I just want to go _home. You’re_ the one who made me come. I just need to go to the police and report a kidnapping, because _I have been kidnapped_, and my parents are probably freaking out and my friends were probably taken too so _I_ need to report this before they get hurt.” He breathed heavily, and everyone was staring now. “Okay?” he added.

The boy stared at him. “I understand. Okay? I understand your worry. But I… what you’re going through? I’ve been there, honest. And I can help. Please. I know it’s hard to ask, but... just trust me.”

Virgil stared at him for a minute, and then his shoulders slumped. He was surrounded. No matter what he did now, if these people wanted him to stay here, he was staying. “Virgil,” he whispered. “My name’s Virgil.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed. He glanced around nervously. “Follow me,” he shot. He then spun on his heel and hurried away, through a doorway. Virgil followed, and just barely saw the boy’s feet pass through a trapdoor in the ceiling. A ladder led to it.

Virgil followed him. This was another room — absolutely tiny, with only a half-full sack of… something, and a ratty blanket on top. The boy spun on Virgil. The teen stepped back slightly.

“Who are you? How do you know who I am?” the boy asked.

Virgil frowned. “What?”

“You know my name. You know my brother’s name. How? How do you know me?”

“_What_? I don’t, I’ve got no idea who you are—”

Suddenly, the boy pulled another knife out of his clothes and brandished it. “I am not interested in— in whatever quest you’re going to offer me. I don’t want any part of it, it’s— it’s bad enough you dragged me here in the first place, but now you’re going to make me risk my life for some king I’ve never met? Well, the answer’s no, so leave me alone.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you insane? Stop flashing your stupid knife around!”

“Or what?”

Virgil stared at him, and then realised he had his own daggers. He pulled one out of its sheath.

“Please. I don’t want to fight you.”

The boy snarled and lunged forwards. His arms hit Virgil’s, and the teenager cried out, dropping the knife, and then his back slammed against the wall and the knife was pressing against his throat.

“Do _not_ threaten me in my own house. Why would you even bring knives in— there are little kids!”

“Oh, _you’re_ one to talk! I thought you said you weren’t going to kill me!”

The boy’s eyes flashed with something… something desperate. He suddenly looked miserable. “I don’t _want_ to. But those kids down there, they’re my family, and I need to protect them, no matter what. Now, please just tell me who you are so that I can let you go.”

“I’m not _anybody_! What do you want me to say? My name is Virgil Sanders, I grew up in Florida with my parents and I am terrified out of my mind, so if you would please stop trying to _slit my throat_ I would be massively grateful.”

The boy’s face crumpled, and a single sob made him loosen his grip. Virgil took the opportunity to shove him away, but now he was stood on the trapdoor, and Virgil was stuck.

“Stop,” the boy begged, voice breaking. “Stop it. You aren’t him, I know you’re not. I don’t know who you are or what you want, but you’re not him, you’re not Virgil.”

Virgil frowned. “Do I… know you?” he asked.

“No! That’s the point!” he yelled back. “You don’t know me, _Virgil_ knows me! You’re not him!”

Virgil stared at him, baffled. “You are insane. Just… get out of my way, and I’ll find someone else who can help me.”

“How do you know him? I get why you’d know my name. It makes sense. But how do you know him?”

“What? I am him! Listen to me, either let me go so that I can go to the police, or… or…” Virgil wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to say after that. He didn’t know what he’d do.

The boy gasped. “The _police_! You know who the police are! So— So that means you’re from the real world! With planes and the police and— and normalness! Right?”

Now, Virgil was certain that he wasn’t safe. “The real world?” he asked. “You’re saying that like this is some kind of story.”

“I don’t know what it is, but it isn’t the real world! I just— One day, I just woke up here. I wasn’t born here, I didn’t grow up here, I just went downstairs at home and then…” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I just woke up here, and had to stay here, but I don’t know what happened.”

“That’s… that’s what happened to me,” Virgil whispered. “I just woke up here, too. How long have you been here?”

“I don’t _know_,” the boy said, voice cracking. “It— It was 2013 when I came here. But they don’t have years like we do!”

“Wait— _what_? It was _2013_? It’s 2019 now.”

The boy stumbled backwards, but Virgil didn’t go for the trapdoor. He looked like he was about to pass out. “What? Oh, god, no. No, my— my parents, they must be worried sick, and—” His knees buckled, and Virgil caught him awkwardly. “Oh, god, _Virgil_.”

“I know, I’m sorry, but— wait.” Virgil stopped him and stumbled away, heart beating fast as he stared at the boy who now seemed to be having a panic attack. “Wait, so why are you suddenly admitting that that’s my name?”

“Y-_Your_ name? That’s— That’s my brother’s name. My brother, my best friend, I _left_ him, I can’t believe I just _left_ him, and I didn’t even get to say _sorry_, he must _hate_ me.”

Virgil, to his credit, didn’t burst into tears the second he managed to put two and two together.

This kid disappeared six years ago, and he had a brother called Virgil, who he wanted to apologise to. If _that_ didn’t mean something, Virgil didn’t know what did.

He sucked in a shaking breath. “Oh, _no_... Patton?”

His head shot up, eyes wide and wet and glistening. He jumped to his feet, scrambling to grab the knife.

“You keep saying my name, I don’t understand! How do you know it? Who are you?”

Virgil stumbled back, hands up and eyes glued to the knife. How on earth could he switch like that?

And, if this _was_ Patton, _Virgil’s_ Patton, then… what happened? The Patton Virgil knew wouldn’t even pick up a knife, let alone brandish it in front of him like a weapon.

“H-Hey, wait, I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m sorry, I just… god, please put the knife down.”

Patton’s eyes narrowed. “I will when you tell me who you are.”

“I— It’s me. It’s Virgil. And you’re Patton, and you disappeared when we were eleven after we had that _stupid_ fight, and—” Virgil’s voice cracked, and a sob wracked through him. “Pat, is it you?”

The knife slipped out of his fingers, and he dove forward, hugging Virgil again.

“_Virge_? Virge, oh my god, is it you? Is it really you, are you really here?”

Virgil stormed the back of his twin’s head with a shaking hand. “I— yeah. Yeah. Oh, god, Patton, I missed you so much. What _happened_?”

“I don’t _know_! I went back— I went back downstairs to fix the wolves and it was like— it was like I got sucked in, and— and then I woke up in an alleyway somewhere dressed all weird and nobody would listen to me and they looked at me like I was crazy and I didn’t know what to _do_. I was so scared, I just wanted to come home, but I couldn’t so I had to— I had to live like this and it was _awful_.” Patton’s voice broke and then his breath hitched and he pulled away. “Virgil, you can’t be here! It isn’t safe!”

Virgil stared into Patton’s eyes. “What? Pat, what is here? Where are we?”

“I don’t know, that’s the problem! But I— I think we’re inside the game.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit after this was posted: guess who’s an idiot that can’t do maths? It’s me. So uh if you read this before? I edited it? And read “2014”? Ignore,,,
> 
> Okay edit number 2: so. At one point, near the end, Virgil said (before I edited) “wait, how do you know my name?” and anyone who read this before I edited that must have been very confused. Basically, I wrote one chapter two, and then another, because I had two different ideas and didn’t know which I liked best, and then I merged them, because I still couldn’t decide so I took my favourite bits, but chapter 2A didn’t have the introduction fandango that 2B (this version) had, so that line was there, and it made a mess and I apologise? But I fixed it. Much later. Sorry


End file.
